Maggie noticed that people were waiting for them, so she let Nikos lead her towards them. They were swept into the ballroom—a magnificent baroque space, with open French doors and a terrace leading down to stunning gardens. A small orchestra played classical music on the terrace and Maggie accepted a small glass of champagne, feeling a little reckless from that rush of adrenalin just now.
But as she stood by Nikos’s side and the auction got underway, the adrenalin faded and she’d never felt more alone. In the space of only two weeks, it was scary how used she’d got to him touching her, checking to see if she was okay.
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But now it was as if he couldn’t bring himself to look at her, never mind touch her. As if he wouldn’t even notice if she left.
So she did.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NIKOS KNEW THE moment Maggie walked away. He knew he was behaving like a boor. But he couldn’t stop. When she’d asked him earlier if things were okay—when she’d mentioned London—he’d felt that awful sense again that he was toxic, and that with every moment spent in his company she was being tainted by him.
In truth, he was finding it hard even to look at Maggie, even though he burned for her more than ever. Looking at her...at those blue eyes...made him feel exposed down to his core.
Daniel was the only one who seemed to look at him and not expect anything.
That’s because he’s a baby.
Nikos scowled at himself. But the utter trust which with Daniel looked at him soothed something inside him. Something that Maggie rubbed up against. Making him remember...too much. Making him want things he couldn’t have. Sweetness. Light.
Maggie hadn’t returned by the time the auction was over. He sensed instinctively that she wouldn’t. He’d pushed her away.
He told himself he was glad. She needed to know what he was like.
The ghost of his past whispered around him, beckoning to him. Reminding him of his worth. His true worth. Maggie had made him feel as if he might be worth something—something more—but it had been an illusion.
She saw too much. She wanted too much. He could feel it from her. A silent plea. One that he couldn’t possibly fulfil.
It was far better that she remembered who he was and who he could never be. Before she got hurt.
When Maggie woke she had a crick in her neck. She realised that she’d fallen asleep in an awkward position on the bed after feeding Daniel—again. She padded out of the bedroom to find Marianne still awake, reading in the living area.
‘Has Nikos come back?’
Marianne shook her head. ‘Not yet.’ Then she frowned. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Sure... Why?’
‘I heard you...being sick.’
Maggie flushed with guilt. She’d been feeling nauseous all day. ‘It was nothing.’
Marianne looked at her. ‘Have you started your periods again?’
Maggie shook her head. ‘No, so it can’t possibly be—’ She stopped talking, a clammy, panicky feeling washing through her. She looked at Marianne. ‘It couldn’t be...could it?’
Marianne stood up, her expression serious. ‘I’m not sure, but I don’t think a lack of periods or breastfeeding is foolproof protection.’
Maggie wanted to sit down. Was it possible? Could she be pregnant again? Already?
She remembered with Daniel that her morning sickness had been worst in the evenings. She felt sick again.
She forced a smile. ‘I’m sure it’s not... Would you watch Daniel if I go out for a minute?’
‘Of course.’
It was only when the lift reached the ground floor that Maggie realised she’d forgotten to put on her shoes. But it was quiet down here. The ballroom was empty now, bathed in moonlight, staff were packing up chairs.